A Photographer’s Story

When I moved to North Carolina in 1989, I didn’t know a soul, I didn’t have a job, and I didn’t have a place to live; I stayed at the YMCA on Hillsborough Street before finding a room in a boarding house near the NCSU campus and, eventually, an apartment. And, although I’d been a photographer for nearly 20 years, I had never exhibited any of my photographs. I was 36 years old and had been a pharmacy technician in a small-town New Jersey drugstore. I moved here, in fact, to be a photographer, and to live my new life as one.

Now, 22 years later, 15 of my photographs are in the permanent collection of the North Carolina Museum of Art. One of them—Reidsville, North Carolina, June 2003—is included in the exhibition Landscape Sublime: Contemporary Photography, which closes November 13.

I have met some very good souls along the way. One of them is Huston Paschal, a long-time associate curator (now retired) at the Museum. When I began exhibiting my photographs in 1990, Huston, unbeknownst to me, started following my progress. I was exhibiting everywhere I could (photographs I’d made on Ellis Island), including the just-opened Cup A Joe on Hillsborough Street in Raleigh and the Weems Gallery at Meredith College. When I began to photograph around the Tar Heel State, Huston quietly watched as my new work—and I—progressed.

On the eve of my 50th birthday in 2003, I received a fateful phone call: Linda Dougherty (the NCMA’s current curator of contemporary art) was on the line. Would I like to schedule a time to bring a selection of my work? She and Huston wanted to see it, with a purchase in mind. Well, happy birthday to me!

I am grateful to Linda and to the NCMA and, now, to Jen Dasal, assistant curator, for including my work in the current exhibition. But mostly I am grateful to Huston, who saw in my work, and in the work of other North Carolina artists she watched grow and mature over her years as curator, something worth paying attention to.

David Simonton is a photographer living in Raleigh, N.C. See his work in the exhibition Landscape Sublime: Contemporary Photography through November 13.

Image: David Simonton, Reidsville, North Carolina, June 2003, 2003, printed 2004, gelatin-silver print, 9 11/16 x 9 13/16 in., Purchased with funds from the William R. Roberson Jr. and Frances M. Roberson Endowed Fund for North Carolina Art, © 2004 David Simonton

Rembrandt: A Sense of the Soul

Over half a century ago, a fledgling art museum mounted its first major exhibition: Rembrandt and His Pupils. Near the end of his remarkable career, a towering figure in the history of American museums and scholarship, W. R. Valentiner, its first director, exerted his vision on shaping a collection, and in a short time the institution was on its way from infancy to becoming a major art museum.

We are reminded of the story of our beginning at the North Carolina Museum of Art today as we open Rembrandt in America 55 years after that first exhibition. With nearly 30 paintings by the master himself, the show assembles the largest number of authentic Rembrandt paintings from American collections ever.

I believe the genius of Rembrandt is readily apparent in this exhibition. It’s the miracle of the human being that begins to be communicated with a sense of the soul, the artistic expression of not only the body but of the soul. It’s easy for us to engage with that, and to come away with an elevated soul of our own after experiencing this stunning collection.

This exhibition represents our Museum at its finest. Our own Dennis Weller, curator of Northern European Art, co-curated the exhibition as well as co-authored the catalogue, also titled Rembrandt in America. Museums and private collectors all over the country have lent works to this important exhibition that has been years in the making.

Rembrandt in America is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you simply must not miss. I invite you to come early and return often. When you visit, take your time, study the details, and feel the awe of being in the presence of one of the greatest Old Masters—right here at the NCMA.

New in the American Galleries: George Bellows

Recent visitors to the Museum will have noticed a new addition to the paintings in the American galleries. Dock Builders by George Bellows is the latest promised gift of Ann and Jim Goodnight. Bellows (1882–1925) was one of the most influential and beloved American artists of the early 20th century. He dropped out of college to play semiprofessional baseball before pursuing a career as a painter in New York. There Bellows studied under Robert Henri and through him fell in with a group of young urban artists. The “ashcan school” advocated painting contemporary American society in all its gritty reality. Though more famous today for his boxing pictures, Bellows painted a wide variety of subjects, capturing the bustle of life around him.

Painted in 1916 during a summer in Camden, Maine, Dock Builders is one of a series of pictures depicting the hard laboring lives of Down East people. It gives a noble dimension to men and horses struggling to move logs into position. Bold, slashing brushstrokes give a sense of movement to this otherwise carefully ordered composition. Bellows’s painterly gusto spills out along the rocks at the bottom as his thick, churning splashes of color encrust the sunlit shoreline. There is a playfulness in Bellows’s handling of the brush. Perhaps the relaxed atmosphere of coastal Maine and the joy of working outside encouraged him to paint more freely. In a letter to Henri, he wrote, “I have done a number of pictures this summer which have not arrived in my mind from direct impressions but are creations of fancy arising out of my knowledge and experience of the facts employed.” Whether it was the sea air or a desire to try new things, it is exciting to see an artist enjoying himself in this “creation of fancy.”

For all the freedom of Dock Builders, Bellows was also experimenting with a systematic approach to composition. The smoothly contoured figures are carefully arranged in an underlying structure of intersecting diagonals. Also, along with several other members of the ashcan school, Bellows was intrigued by the color theories of Hardesty Maratta. Maratta devised a system that assigned each color to a corresponding musical note. He then directed artists to combine colors at prescribed intervals, using “chords” to achieve a harmonious effect. We do not know if Bellows used a color keyboard [see image below] when he was painting in Camden, though it seems likely that he had the balanced triads of the Maratta system in mind.

Combining freedom and restraint, Dock Builders adds something new to the Museum’s galleries. Celebrating men at work, the vibrant colors and innovative technique showcased in this landscape represent a pivotal moment in the history of American art.

Laura Fravel, Curatorial Intern

Hardesty G. Maratta’s color keyboard. From The Maratta Scales of Artists’ Oil Pigments, 1916. John Weichsel Papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C.

Image: George Wesley Bellows, Dock Builders, 1916, oil on canvas, Promised gift of Dr. and Mrs. James H. Goodnight

A Residency and a Remembrance

What do you get when you bring 24 talented teenagers and their teachers from all over North Carolina, drop them off at the Museum for three days, and challenge them to create a book that will teach character education to young children? The answer is What Can a Small Bird Be?, a story that has been published and is being placed in elementary and middle schools throughout the state.

Thanks to funding from the North Carolina General Assembly to support character education in K–12 public schools, the ELA section of the Department of Public Instruction and the North Carolina Museum of Art had the privilege of hosting these young people and their teachers for a Character Education Teen Residency Project. Under the leadership of artist Peg Gignoux and writer Susie Wilde, students transformed their ideas into images and words that tell the story of what it means to be a good person. (See photos of the event on Flickr.)

Carolyn Crutcher, an English 10 teacher at New Technology High School at Garinger in Charlotte, N.C., reflects on her experience.

Participating in the residency was such a rewarding experience for my students and me. First, in the words of Moe Win: “I had so many new experiences in a few days. The environment at the NCMA made me feel so creative. As I was an author/writer, I learned so much about showing not telling, revising, and editing for the story. I am not the type of person who likes to work with a team, but I learned that it is more fantastic to work with others. We were discussing and helping each other while writing our story. Another good opportunity was visiting the art galleries. I loved the tours Ms. Rusak guided. The art work invited me to think more about the purpose of the artists.”

Here are Ivan Gaddy’s reflections: “I wanted to go to Raleigh, but I was nervous because this was the first time that I had gone somewhere and spent more than one day without my family. The main thing I was worried about was the way we had to make the art. Before the residency, I had only used pencil and paper for drawing. Also I was afraid that the groups weren’t going to agree on anything. I am so glad that my assumptions were wrong. It was nice hearing the other groups’ stories and seeing how they drew the main character, “Bird.” I liked making the collages out of fabric, and I hope to use that form of art in the near future. The trip was great and I hope to go again.”

For me, as the teacher, it was sheer pleasure to have this time with such talented young people on such a creative project. I spent most of my time with the writing groups, but to my delight, I also got to help cut out fabric for the illustrations and even helped a little with sewing. When we toured the galleries, I was deeply moved by Michael Richards’s bronze sculpture, Tar Baby vs. St. Sebastian, especially when Sandy Rusak told us that Michael died on September 11, 2001, in his art studio in one of the Twin Towers.

I used a picture of the sculpture and Michael’s story to introduce the essential question for a recent literature project: How do beliefs and attitudes affect the lives of individuals? First I showed the students a picture of the sculpture and instructed them to look at it and think about it. Then I had them read about Richards. With a partner they discussed these questions and wrote their answers:

  1. What is ironic about the bronze statue?
  2. Explain the allusions in the title Tar Baby vs. St. Sebastian.
  3. Who were the Tuskegee Airmen?
  4. How did Michael Richards’s beliefs and attitudes shape his art?
  5. How did the beliefs, attitudes, and actions of the young men who flew the planes 9/11 affect Michael Richards’s life?

When the students completed their research, we had a stimulating class discussion. Although only two of my students were able to participate in the art residency, I was able to share one of the pieces of art with all my students.

Remembering Through Contemporary Art

With the 10th anniversary of the September 11 attacks upon us, it seems only fitting that we step back to reflect on the unutterable losses that have ultimately changed our world. Across the country, memorials will be held, poetry read, and prayers uttered. It’s not a surprise, then, when we consider that the Art World has been affected by this tragedy as well—and New York, in particular, is ripe with artistic expression surrounding the events of September 11.

In commemoration of the anniversary, numerous galleries and art centers have come together as part of a citywide event, titled “Remembering 9/11: The 10th Anniversary.” All told, more than 50 institutions are partaking in exhibitions, readings, and performances dedicated to honoring those lost in the terrorist attacks. Now that a decade has passed, it seems that some artists now feel that their wounds—personal, physical or psychic—have healed enough to revisit, leading to a proliferation of works.

The Brooklyn Museum is presenting Ten Years Later: Ground Zero Remembered, an exhibition featuring works by two artists, Michael Richards and Christoph Draeger. The inclusion of Richards is especially notable for NC Museum of Art visitors, who may be familiar with Tar Baby vs. Saint Sebastian, currently located in our Modern and Contemporary Galleries. During his tragically short career, Michael Richards frequently addressed issues of social injustice, creating stunning sculptures that criticize oppression. Tar Baby vs. Saint Sebastian commemorates the Tuskegee Airmen, African American pilots whose heroic contributions to World War II were recognized only in the past few decades. The sculpture itself, cast from the artist’s own body, represents a gold-painted airman penetrated on all sides by small airplanes, reminiscent of the arrows shot at St. Sebastian, an early Christian martyr and saint. The title of the work, with its double reference to the saint and a southern folktale of entrapment, pays tribute to the Tuskegee pilots—and to all who suffer intolerance and unfairness.

The back story of the sculpture, though, is a haunting one, and is quite pertinent to the anniversary of 9/11. The work itself, in effect a self-portrait, now seems an eerie foretelling of the artist’s death. Richards was a victim of the World Trade Center terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001—his studio was on the ninety-second floor of Tower One. Tar Baby vs. Saint Sebastian, too, was feared lost in the wreckage, as it was not found in the remains of the artist’s studio, or at his home. It was only revealed later to be stored in a relative’s garage outside of New York City. Now housed at the NCMA on long-term loan, the work is a commemoration of the artist’s life and talents and a memorial, of sorts, for September 11. Stop by over the weekend and include this as a must-see on your list.

Image: Michael Richards, Tar Baby vs. St. Sebastian, 1999, body cast in resin and fiberglass, painted, and supported by steel shaft, with airplanes cast in resin and fiberglass, painted, and attached by steel bolts, On loan from the estate of the artist

30 Americans: Questions and Connections

Alice Walker once wrote, “If art doesn’t make us better, then what on earth is it for.”

Walker is the author of one of my favorite books, The Color Purple. In The Color Purple, Celie, a poor African American woman living in rural Georgia in the 1930s, struggles her way from a place of loneliness, abuse, and being a victim of circumstance to a place of acceptance, finding self-worth, and personal liberation. It’s about overcoming the obstacles in our lives and learning from them. It’s about creating a reality for yourself, not accepting the one that others have forced upon you. Most important, it’s about realizing we are all flawed and, in that understanding, being willing to forgive others for their mistakes.

Although I am a white male, I never took away from the book that it was a “black person’s story.” When I first read it in high school, it had an impact on me because I could identify and empathize with many of the feelings and hardships Celie experienced. They were personal trials many of us have lived through—issues of power and control, of being made to feel less than or unworthy, of learning to trust in your own strength, not what others say you can or cannot do. Celie’s challenges were human challenges. Through her art Walker was able to connect to me as a person.

Each time I walk through the 30 Americans exhibition, I experience that same connection. Although 30 Americans is a collection of works of art by African American artists, the subject matter is often universal. Anyone can identify with issues of race, gender, identity, and history. I, too, ask questions: “Why was I born a male in the United States in the 1960s?” “If my grandparents were Polish, Irish, English, and German, where do I say I come from?” “How does this vessel that houses my soul define me and what I can achieve?” “What is my purpose in the big picture?”

I know that art makes us better. It enlightens us, challenges us to think differently, to question why certain subjects make us uncomfortable, to question what we believe—versus what we were taught to believe—and it makes us explore parts of ourselves that we may have otherwise ignored. It educates us about our history—the achievements and the failures. It reveals truths about the human condition, both our limitations and our amazing potential.

This post is one of a series on staff perspectives of 30 Americans. Robert Mlodzik is Manager of Visitor and Volunteer Services at the NCMA.

30 Americans: Powerful and Priceless

It is hard to pick which of the Hank Willis Thomas pieces I liked the most in 30 Americans, but I thought Priceless covered enough of his style to work for the whole. Like most of his art, this incorporates advertising heavily, along with the larger theme of abuse and loss. I can particularly see the personal sense of loss when this piece is coupled with the short interview shown in the City Block area next to the exhibition. In this three-minute interview, Thomas recalls that his work was slightly more lighthearted until the murder of his cousin. After that his work became more realist and less light but still often used an element of entertainment.

The piece itself is a photo of a large black family, probably an extended family, in their finest clothing, mourning what is presumed to be a murdered youth. In and around the photo are words written in yellow that play on the MasterCard commercials, with phrases like “Pistol: $80,” “Bullet: 10 cents,” “Casket: $6,000,” “Burying Your Son: Priceless.” This is a heartbreaking thought. Since those MasterCard commercials were usually so warmhearted and thoughtful, to see them turned by such a horrible event strikes me hard.

I wonder how much less effective the photo might have been if Thomas had not used the commercial element, because advertising is such a strong way to enter our consciousness, traveling down roads of thought like a river travels down a gulch. The piece is really powerful and affected me deeply the first time I saw it. Death always seems to have that effect on people. And so it should.

This post is one of a series on staff perspectives of 30 Americans. Nathan Johnson is a security guard at the NCMA.

Revisiting The Thing in the Window

A while back I wrote about visiting the small town of Cebolla, New Mexico where Georgia O’Keeffe painted Cebolla Church (1945) in our collection. I shared my frustration at not being able to identify the curiously shaped “thing in the window.” A number of readers offered suggestions. I side with those who think it was a plant, perhaps a potted something-or-other that has bent towards the sunlight streaming in the window. But what kind of potted plant?

I returned to Cebolla in early June while driving with my family to my son’s college graduation in Washington State. (Yes, we took the long route). I left my family in the car while I photographed the somewhat forlorn church which replaced the adobe structure painted by O’Keeffe. (Note to memory: in my earlier blog post I mistakenly described this later church as made of brick. It is in fact faux adobe.) The church was locked so I was limited to peering through the windows. I was pleased to see that several windows had potted plants on the sill, though none resembled the lavish foliage of the “thing in the window.”

From a Teen’s View

Teenagers tend to see the world a little differently—but that’s not a bad thing! A distinct point of view can be an asset to a photographer. The Museum’s recent Digital Photography Workshop encouraged high schoolers to express their creativity in a variety of media.

The workshop combined a photo shoot in the Museum Park with computer manipulation and hands-on art projects. First the teens took a look at our current photography exhibition, Landscape Sublime, and saw how North Carolina artist John Menapace transformed ordinary daily spaces into extraordinary arrangements of light and form. They took their cameras into the Park to capture worm’s-eye views of oaks covered with kudzu and the geometric angles of the amphitheater stage.

Back inside, they got their hands on computer software to manipulate photographs, distorting and enhancing their own photos for a dramatic and sometimes humorous effect. The students experimented with printing on unusual surfaces and combining photos of themselves with works of art for mixed-media projects.

They drew inspiration from Anthony Goicolea’s Sea Wall, a sculptural installation of photos, glass bottles, and glass blocks, to print photographs of each other on acetate for a group installation, which they then photographed. They looked at vanitas paintings in the Dutch collection—still lifes that symbolize the emptiness and transience of earthly things—and then created another three-dimensional installation using still-life objects. Their work graced the Blue Ridge patio for just a short time, but the images live on in students’ photographs.

We invite you to peer behind the lens for a new perspective of the Museum.

30 Americans: All Dressed Up

Walking through the 30 Americans exhibition, one enters a world filled with vibrant color, lush tactile materials, playful embellishment, and stunning craftsmanship. If all of these attributes are not enough to shock your senses, the sheer scale of some of the works will push you over the edge. Stand in front of Kehinde Wiley’s Sleep to experience what it is to be engulfed by a painting. Lose yourself in the fine details of a single fold of fabric or in the intricate maze of his ornate patterns; you will walk away with your senses buzzing.

The entire exhibition is one sensory exercise after another, a sublime workout for mind and soul. Yet, what I find so appealing about 30 Americans is its playfulness. I love looking at Mickalene Thomas’ Baby I Am Ready Now and seeing an empowered woman: a very strong, confident portrait. But I also see rhinestones. Everywhere I look I see more and more rhinestones, creating beautiful patterns and adding a new layer to the portrayal of this assertive woman. The decoration does not diminish the strength of the portrait; it adds life. It adds a personal, sensual quality. It suggests a softer note to the story, a playful “let’s get dressed up and have some fun” kind of attitude. I love it.

Who doesn’t like to get all dressed up? Nick Cave doesn’t seem to mind. His Soundsuits are simply incredible. Such exquisite detailing and use of materials in unconventional ways result in truly magical pieces of art. It is the human form all decked out: jewels, embroidery, oversize flowers, even silky rainbow-saturated hair. Cave’s Soundsuits seem to pose the challenge, “Just try and not have fun.” Their playfulness is infectious (and we all need more playtime in our lives). If you are as captivated by Nick Cave’s work as I am, you’ll be glad that the artist has also made it possible to take the festivity home, with a Soundsuit punching bag or an Imagination Book to create your own Soundsuit design (available from the online Museum Store, of course).

The creativity and boldness of the 30 Americans exhibition spills over: beyond the gallery walls, into our homes, into our hearts. For me, 30 Americans has been a friendly reminder of how serious art (and serious content) can be enriched by retaining a youthful exuberance and an intelligent, playful spirit.

This post is one of a series on staff perspectives of 30 Americans. Andrew Morgan manages inventory for the Museum Store.

Image: Nick Cave, Soundsuit, 2008, fabric, fiberglass, and metal, H. 102 x W. 36 x D. 28 in., Rubell Family Collection, Miami, © 2010 Nick Cave